


The Chute

by Pony Girl (Jackjunkie)



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:13:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackjunkie/pseuds/Pony%20Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heyes and Curry fight for their lives in a prison which seems to have no way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chute

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine A Small Circle of Friends #2  
> Based on the Star Trek: Voyager episode The Chute by Clayvon C. Harris & Kenneth Biller

Hannibal Heyes hurt all over.

That was the main sensation penetrating the groggy haze clouding his senses. He groaned. Dimly aware of a jumble of sights, sounds, and movements, he couldn't think clearly enough to sort out what was happening. He heard feet stomping, metal clanging, voices shouting.

"Get out of the way!"

"A new man coming!"

"A new prisoner!"

Heyes felt a rough shove. Suddenly he was moving, sliding downward, feet first, along some kind of tubular passage, picking up speed as he went. It occurred to him that slowing himself down might be a good idea, but he didn't seem able to summon the strength to manage it.

The question of speed was settled when, emerging from the passageway, his already battered body slammed to an abrupt halt on a hard, stone floor.

Blinking his eyes, he struggled to bring his new surroundings into focus. As the blur before him coalesced into distinct shapes, he was at last able to discern faces, a mass of faces crowding about him. He perceived that he was at the center of a circle of men: hard, dirty men who looked back at him in an unfriendly, even predatory, manner.

One man pushed through the mob and knelt over Heyes. The man's clothes were torn and threadbare. Dirt had turned their color an indistinguishable gray. Rags were wrapped around his hands in the place of gloves. A filthy bandanna knotted around his head held unkempt, stringy hair off his face. It was a gaunt face, with prominent cheekbones. A beak of a nose sniffed at Heyes as an animal would. Certainly the stench that emanated from the man was enough to choke Heyes without any effort at sniffing on his own part.

After looking Heyes up and down, the man reached out, grabbed hold of his dark blue shirt, and pulled him roughly to his feet. No sooner was he upright than Heyes felt himself pushed backwards into the man standing behind him. That man in turn pushed Heyes to another, then another, and he found himself being passed from man to man, pummelled and punched as he proceeded along their harrowing gauntlet.

He tried to fight back, but in his weakened state was easily overcome. He was beaten to the floor where he was kicked repeatedly. He yelped in pain as a heavy stick struck him across the back, then he was dragged back up to his feet to face another onslaught.

Falling forward into two outstretched arms, he looked up into a very familiar pair of blue eyes, and his own weary dark ones lit with a sudden gleam of hope.

"Kid!" he breathed softly. Heedless of the stinging discomfort, his bleeding, cut lips formed into a welcoming smile at the sight of his cousin, his partner, his friend in the midst of this hideous nightmare.

He saw the younger man look past his shoulder at the mob behind him. Then Kid Curry looked expressionlessly into Hannibal Heyes' eyes and swung a hard right to his gut.

With one astonished cough, Heyes sank to his knees, arms pressed to his afflicted midsection. He keeled over onto the floor as everything went black.

*****

Wincing, Heyes opened his eyes to the same brutal scene. He realized he must have blacked out, but only for a moment, since it didn't look as if anything had changed.

With an effort, he raised himself to one elbow, then had to pause to catch his breath.

He heard a voice say, "Nobody touch him. He's mine."

The man who had begun his mistreatment earlier again stepped forward. Taking a firm hold of Heyes' boot, he began to drag him across the rough, stone floor.

"Wait. This is a mistake," Heyes gasped out. Sitting up, he swatted at his captor's hands locked around his leg. "I didn't do anything. I shouldn't be here!"

The man stopped and faced him mockingly. "No? Well, I'll just take you home then. All right?" Backhanding Heyes across the face, he knocked him back down to the floor. Turning to resume dragging away his prize, he came face to face with Kid Curry.

"This one's mine, Snake," Curry announced implacably.

Licking his lips, the man addressed as Snake replied, "I say he's not." He hung on to Heyes' boot.

"He's the reason that I'm here," Curry revealed. He looked challengingly around at the assembled men as he elaborated on his claim. "He was my partner in a robbery and kidnapping. A couple of deputies were gunned down. And then this... scum confessed to the lawmen and gave them my name." Radiating the same firm resolve he brought to his gunfights, his eyes locked with Snake's. "So I'm telling you again, he's mine."

Snake did not appear impressed. "I'm keeping him," he smirked.

Whipping out a makeshift knife that was little more than a piece of pointed metal, Curry wrapped his arm around Snake's throat. He didn't threaten or persuade. The sharp edge of the crude blade eloquently made his argument for him.

"Take him," Snake said simply, dropping Heyes' leg with a thud.

Curry released the ruffian.

"For now," Snake added a parting threat.

Curry watched him out of sight before tucking the knife back in his belt. Only then did he look down at Heyes, still lying exhausted on the floor where Snake had left him. Extending an arm, the Kid helped his friend to his feet. Placing Heyes' right arm over his shoulders, he supported him as they walked slowly away from the disbanding group.

For the first time, Heyes had leisure to observe their prison. He thought it must be like the old dungeons he'd read about. The walls were stone like the floor. There were no windows, though he could see ventilation shafts high up near the ceiling. A gloomy light was cast by torches. There were no cells, no bars. There was apparently no need for them, as there seemed to be no way out but the chute through which he'd entered.

He and Curry trudged through a succession of rooms of various sizes, past ragged men huddled in every available nook and corner. No one spoke to them. All eyed them warily. The hate and fear and mistrust in the air were almost palpable.

They arrived at last at a niche that Curry seemed to have made his own. A blanket draped across some posts formed a sort of lean-to, which provided a modicum of privacy.

The Kid lowered him onto another blanket on the floor. Heyes was grateful for even that meager cushion between his bruised body and the unyielding stone. He was even more grateful for the cup of water offered to him, and the damp cloth to wash the blood off his mouth.

"Did you have to hit me so hard?" he complained to his partner, once he'd taken a few sips of the badly needed liquid.

"Trust me," Curry replied, seating himself on the blanket as well, "around here you don't want anybody thinking you're soft."

"Thanks for the tip." Heyes lowered the cup. "Is there any food?" he asked.

"I haven't had anything to eat since I got here."

"How long is that?"

"Couple o' days," the Kid grunted. "What happened to you after they split us up?"

Heyes thought back over the preceding few days. "That sheriff who arrested us questioned me for a piece." He shuddered just remembering the way the sheriff liked to let his fists ask the questions. "When I wouldn't confess to the robbery, he hauled me in front of a judge. He said you'd already confessed for the both of us. Then he pronounced me guilty."

"Exactly what happened to me," the Kid declared. He appeared to mull it over. "Then things got a little fuzzy. I think they knocked me out cold or somethin', 'cause the next thing I knew, I woke up at the bottom of the chute to that welcoming party."

"If I can just talk to somebody, explain that they made a mistake, I'll come up with some story to make them listen..."

He was glumly interrupted. "Who did you have in mind?"

"A guard. The warden."

"Ain't seen nobody like that." The Kid moved to the edge of the small shelter and brushed the blanket aside, keeping watch on the activity around them.

"A prison without guards?"

"The other inmates say this place is so far underground they figure guards ain't needed."

Draining the last drop of water, Heyes extended his cup. "Hey, can I have some more?"

The Kid whirled around and knocked the cup out of his hand. "What do you think this is, a hotel?" he yelled. "There ain't no more!"

"Take it easy," Heyes responded in concern. It was true his partner had a temper, but he didn't often see him lash out like this. He watched the anger and frustration clouding those sky-blue eyes slowly simmer down and die away.

Curry closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. When they reopened, they held a contrite look.

"I'm sorry. I'm really starting to get edgy." The Kid sat down again. "I think it's the water."

"What?"

"You were probably too thirsty to notice right away," Curry explained, "but it's got a bitter taste to it. Some of the prisoners think they add some kind of herb to it. Don't know exactly what it does, 'cept make everyone a mite nervous."

"This place is enough to make anyone nervous."

"I've been getting jumpier ever since I got here, in a way I ain't never been before, not on a job, in jail, in a gunfight, never."

Heyes was convinced. The Kid was not the jumpy type. "What would they do that for?"

"I dunno. Maybe it's part of the punishment."

"I suppose we could try not drinking the water." He sounded doubtful even to his own ears.

"You know how long we'd last. I saw someone try it. He went mad before he died." Curry's voice held bleak determination. "What we have to do is find a way out of this place."

"Mm." Heyes nodded in agreement. "Let's get something straight first." He looked seriously into his partner's eyes.

"What?"

"The next time you take a swing at me, I'm hitting back." That drew a smile and his own dimple appeared in response.

A commotion among the other prisoners attracted their attention.

"What's that?" Heyes wondered.

"I don't know. Another prisoner maybe?" Curry speculated.

They heard cries, and finally made out one word. "Food!"

"Join me for dinner?" Curry invited with a grin. He held out his hand and helped Heyes back to his feet.

They joined the hurrying throng on their way to the chute. When they arrived, a wretched sight met their eyes.

Hardtack poured from the chute as hungry men scrabbled on the floor for each scrap.

One man stomped on another's hand with a heavy boot to steal his share. 

Shouting, "There's got to be more!" one prisoner tried to climb into the chute, but was instantly fired upon by the guards at the top who had supplied the food. He fell back bleeding.

A large bear of a man slit another's throat. "I don't think he was gonna eat it anyway, do you?" he remarked nonchalantly to Heyes and Curry as he walked away, munching on the cracker.

They knelt by the body. "He's dead," Heyes confirmed.

"I think I've lost my appetite," admitted the Kid.

*****

Sheriff Lom Trevors was feeling annoyed. He generally thought of himself as an even-tempered man, but his colleague in this hole at the back of beyond was aggravating enough to drive a parson to cuss.

Not for the first time, he wished Heyes and Curry had picked another town to meet up with him. Of course, it was wise of them to stick to out-of-the-way places where they'd be less likely to be recognized or get into trouble, but Eden's Acre (the Devil's Acre was more like it, to Lom's way of thinking) had ended up giving them more trouble than a posse of bankers and railroad men.

"Your friends have been convicted of robbing the stagecoach on the road out of town," Sheriff Lear told him, "kidnapping a young boy, and shooting and wounding two of my deputies whilst we hunted them down."

"I'm telling you, Sheriff, these men are not kidnappers. I'm sure they had nothing to do with this holdup."

"And I'm telling you, Sheriff," he said the word as if he doubted Lom had a right to the title, "we followed their trail right back to town where we caught 'em."

"You admit they didn't try to hide."

"No, they just rode into town, bold as brass. Thought they'd given us the slip, but we outsmarted them."

"They didn't have the money from the holdup or the missing boy."

"They coulda stashed that money anyplace, and who knows what they done with that pore boy? Probably buried his body in the hills somewheres it'll never be found."

"What you're saying, Sheriff Lear, is that you have absolutely no evidence that Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones committed any crime whatsoever."

"We tracked them and that's good enough for us. Judge found 'em guilty and that's the end of it."

"I want to know where you've got them jailed and I want to have a chance to talk to them. Maybe I can clear things up after I hear their side of what happened."

"Prisoners here ain't allowed no visitors."

Lom Trevors felt an overwhelming desire to pick Lear up by the scruff of his neck and give him a good shaking. He realized that would not get Heyes and Curry back, however.

Biting back on words he knew would only cause trouble, he contented himself with a simple, "Thanks for your time, Sheriff." He settled his hat neatly back onto his black hair and headed for the door. No sense wasting any more time where he was getting nowhere. What he needed was to get out of here and do some thinking.

*****

Heyes peered past the blanket curtaining their shelter. Still no sign of the Kid. With an aggrieved slap at the cloth, he moved back inside and sat down. A few moments later, he jumped up at the sound of footsteps and watched Curry enter the lean-to.

"What took you so long?" he demanded irritably. "I've been back at least half an hour."

"You're starting to feel it, aren't you?" the blond asked with an appraising look.

Heyes sighed. "I guess I am."

Curry grasped his shoulders supportively. "It gets worse all the time. We have to fight it."

Heyes nodded.

"Let's think about somethin' else to take our minds off it," the Kid proposed.

"How about a seven-course dinner?" Heyes suggested with a grin, well acquainted with his cousin's fondness for a good meal. "I suppose you didn't find any food," he added without real expectation.

"Well, I found close to fifty good citizens in this quaint little community, but not a grocer among them."

"I take it that's a no." Heyes tried to smile, but the hunger pangs were making it harder to keep his spirits up. 

"Yeah, but if we do get our hands on some food, I found a nice spot for a picnic."

If the Kid could keep trying to cheer him up, Heyes couldn't let him down. He rallied. "Great. All we need is some feminine company and we could make a day of it. And since you went to all the trouble of locating the place, I'd do the rest of the work, even make the coffee," he said magnanimously.

The offer drew a laugh from the Kid, who knew Heyes' opinion of his coffee. "So," he asked, "how about you? Come across anything interesting in your travels?"

"If you mean an escape route, I ran into nothing but solid walls."

Curry sighed. "Me, too. As far as I can see, the only way to the surface is that chute in the main chamber."

"The question is, how do we get into it without getting shot? You saw what happened to that man who tried it while they were sending down the food. There may not be any guards down here, but they must keep one or more stationed at the door at the top."

"Yeah, I think there are a couple of rifle holes up there. According to the talk I heard, anyone who's tried to climb into it has gotten shot at, even when there was no activity around it like the food delivery."

Concentrating on solving the problem would give his mind something to occupy it besides the hunger and the edginess. Heyes always did like to wrap his mind around a problem. "It looks like a solid metal door, but it's too far up for me to make out the lock. Don't matter, whatever kind of a lock it is. I'd bet the pot on my chances of getting through it, if I could just get up there."

"You'll think of a plan. Meanwhile, you need a weapon to defend yourself around here. I couldn't find any more metal like I used for my knife, but I came across this." Curry held out some pieces of a broken mirror. "They may not stand up to use like metal, but they're sharp enough to cut as long as you're careful not to break 'em much more 'n they already are."

Heyes reached for the shards of silvered glass. "Yeah, thanks, I..." He stopped as the mirror reflected a stray beam of light from a burning torch. Turning the mirror this way and that, he looked from its surface to the walls and ceiling and back to the mirror again. A faraway look came into his eyes as he gazed off into space.

"Heyes," prompted the Kid. "You got an idea, don't you?"

Heyes brought his gaze back to the prison and to his partner. This time the smile came without effort. "Kid, I think I do. We just might have a way outta here after all."

*****

Lom slowed his horse to a walk along the road outside Eden's Acre where the robbery had taken place. His thinking had led him to the decision to concentrate on proving Heyes' and Curry's innocence. It seemed to him that the best way to do that was to find the real robbers and kidnappers.

Obviously the local lawmen had gotten mixed up during their tracking. Somewhere along the way they'd lost the trail they'd been following and picked up Curry's and Heyes' by mistake. All Trevors had to do was backtrack and find the real criminals' trail again. Once he'd found the real culprits, he'd bring them back to Eden's Acre to clear his friends. That was all there was to it.

Lom had tracked enough outlaws, not to mention ridden with enough outlaws, to be familiar with most of the tricks of the trail. He was confident in his ability to spot something the local men might have missed.

Besides, he had the advantage of knowing Heyes and Curry were innocent. They'd better be. If they weren't, he'd lock them up himself and throw away the key.

*****

"Come on, come on, come on," Heyes muttered fervently as he attempted to fasten the pieces of mirror together at the proper angles.

"Take it easy. You'll get it," the Kid encouraged him.

Heyes knew the Kid had confidence in him. He had to. Both their lives depended on him now.

What Heyes had confidence in was mathematics. As he'd once told their old acquaintance Harry Wagner about his favorite technique of blowing a safe with nitroglycerin, "There's a formula for everything."

He did have faith in the formula. If he could fasten the mirrors to the top of the chute at the correct angles, they should reflect the light in such a way that anyone looking through the rifle holes at the top would continue to see an empty chute, even if someone were crawling along the bottom of it. As long as he stayed below the allowable level, he wouldn't interfere with the illusion from the mirrors. He should be perfectly safe.

He knew it was a fine plan, a Hannibal Heyes Plan worthy of the name. The problem was with the execution. It would be one thing if he had the proper equipment to fasten mirrors of precise dimensions at precise angles. Fastening broken pieces together with bits of scavenged wire and string was another matter altogether.

While the Kid kept watch, Heyes continued to struggle to place a piece just so. Finally, uttering a yelp of frustration, he lay the pieces down and began to pace.

"I can't think, I can't concentrate," he said, running a hand nervously through his disheveled brown hair.

"Okay, concentrate on this," Curry said, grasping his shoulders, forcing him to stand still and listen. When he had Heyes' attention, the Kid threw his arm across his friend's shoulders and walked with him, slowing the frantic pace to an easy stroll. "Um, roast chicken and dumplings, apple brown betty, and a nice, cold beer at the Brown Derby in Denver."

Heyes laughed and sat down, picking up the discarded pieces of mirror. Now that it was so scarce, he was beginning to share the Kid's customary appreciation of food. "Or how about fresh-caught trout," he said, joining in the game, "sourdough biscuits warm from the oven, and peach cobbler."

"Mm, good one," the Kid agreed. "Okay, a couple of thick steaks, with fried potatoes, and cherry pie for dessert. Let's see you top that one."

Heyes stood up, still working on the pieces in his hands. "Right now I'm so hungry I could eat a double helping of cold beans and fatback, washed down with a cup of your coffee."

"Me, too. Never thought I'd say that."

Heyes took a deep breath and faced the chute. "I'm ready to give it a try."

Standing at the edge, out of sight of the gunmen above, he fastened the mirrors into position. "So far, so good." Dropping to his knees, he reached an arm tentatively into the chute. A bullet pinged off the side as he jumped back out of the way.

"Are you okay?" The Kid was at his side, concern etched on his features.

Heyes nodded an affirmative.

The noise had attracted attention. Some of the men approached the pair by the chute. Heyes spotted Snake among them.

He and Curry got hurriedly to their feet.

"What are you doing?" Snake challenged.

"Just out for a little stroll," Curry answered lightly. He reached for Heyes and roughly shoved him in the opposite direction. "Move it," he commanded, with a significant look at his cousin.

"What's that?" Snake demanded, indicating the arrangement of mirrors Heyes had retrieved from above the chute.

"Mirrors," Heyes answered with a shrug.

Snake was not so easily put off. "Let's see them," he insisted, holding out an imperious hand.

"Hold it." Curry turned to face his antagonist, one hand on the hilt of the knife at his belt. It might not be as comfortable or as familiar as his six-gun, but he looked ready if it came to a fight. "I'd really advise you to stay out of my way."

Snake laughed. "You shoulda thought of that before you took him." Pulling his knife and leveling it in a challenge, he began to circle Curry, who drew his own blade and assumed a defensive stance.

Snake's two companions approached Heyes with the apparent intention of preventing any interference with the combatants. One held him fast while the other held a knife at his throat. He could only watch helplessly while a crowd of onlookers cheered the spectacle.

Snake initiated the fight, slashing at Curry with his knife.

Curry ducked, then took the offensive with a series of jabbing slices and thrusts to drive Snake back. He lunged, but Snake maneuvered to the side, landing a vicious punch to the Kid's ribs as he passed. Curry yelled out at the blow, but recovered and turned to face his opponent once again.

"Come on, Kid," Heyes encouraged under his breath.

Blocking Snake's next thrust with an upflung arm, Curry swung a right hook to Snake's jaw, knocking him to the floor.

The man holding a knife on Heyes stepped forward and plunged it deep into Curry's side.

"Kiiiid!!" Heyes yelled. The name was lost in the swell of shouts all around them.

Curry's fingers uncurled, releasing his blade to fall to the floor as he looked down at the hilt protruding from his body. Touching it gingerly as though in disbelief, his hand came away covered in his blood. He sank to one knee, his golden head bowed.

Heyes went berserk. He bashed his head back into his captor's, wrenched his arms free, and swung around to finish the man with a savage uppercut.

Rising from the floor to face his fallen adversary with a grin, Snake yanked his friend's knife from Curry's side and stood over him victoriously.

The Kid collapsed to the floor.

Heyes rushed forward, swinging wildly at any man who came near the Kid, yelling at them all to back off. Kneeling by his bleeding cousin, he tore off his bandanna and, folding it into a pad, pressed it into the wound.

"Hang on. I'm getting you outta here," he stated.

The Kid only had the strength to nod.

Someone approached them from behind.

Heyes shot to his feet in a threatening posture.

It was the large man who had cut another prisoner's throat for his food. They had learned later he was called Zale. No one seemed to know his first name.

The man held up his hands to show he meant them no harm. "I got no fight with you." He knelt down by the Kid and checked the wound. "If he doesn't bleed to death, he'll die from infection," he pronounced.

"We've got to get him to a doctor," Heyes implored.

"Of course, I'm sure the guards upstairs will get one to rush right over," Zale said sarcastically.

Pushing him away in fury, Heyes picked up the precious mirrors he'd set down and helped the Kid to stand. This time it was he who draped his friend's arm across his shoulders and supported him as they walked.

"Hey!" Zale called to them.

Heyes paused and looked back.

"What do you want for the dead man's boots?"

Heyes glared at him. Retorts tumbled through his head, but he didn't trust himself to give voice to them. With a last warning gesture to stay away from them, he turned and walked away with the bleeding Kid.

*****

"You can make it. Just a few more steps and we'll be back at the shelter." Heyes stumbled along, drooping but determined. Between the beatings and the lack of food, he barely managed to support the Kid's weight. Each step was a major effort.

"Home, sweet home," the Kid joked. He could hardly lift his feet. Heyes was having to do all the work for them both. "Heyes."

"Yeah?"

"I'm hurt pretty bad."

"I'll take care of you." Heyes was not going to let the Kid give up now. Somehow he'd fix things. Somehow.

"Promise me something."

"What?"

"If things get worse, if it comes down to making a choice, don't worry about me. Take care of yourself."

Heyes just looked at his cousin without answering.

"We got a deal?" The Kid probed for an answer anyway.

"Quiet." There was no way he was going to make a deal like that. He'd never abandon the Kid. Never. The Kid was in no shape for an argument now, however. He just wouldn't let him talk like that.

They arrived at their shelter at last. Heyes looked up to see a stranger emerging from it. "Hey! What are you doing in there?"

"Get out!" the man yelled at them.

"This place is ours," Heyes challenged him.

"Get out!" the man repeated and began banging on the side of the lean-to. A second man came out and began making a ruckus also, banging with a stick and yelling at them to get out. They had obviously taken the place over for themselves and intended to stay.

Heyes knew he was in no condition to fight off the squatters. They'd have to go elsewhere.

He couldn't support the Kid much longer. They were desperate. He could think of only one option.

"Okay, here's the deal," he proposed when they arrived at Zale's shelter. "My boots for some clean cloth, some water, two hardtack biscuits, and my friend gets to stay in there until he's better."

Zale looked them over, then went back to writing on some papers. "I don't take in boarders."

Heyes modified the deal. "What about the rest of it?"

Zale paused and glanced at the boots. "I don't like the color."

"Let's go. He's not gonna help us," panted the Kid.

Heyes didn't budge. He wasn't through dealing. "Just tell me what you want for the food and the bandages, okay?"

Zale considered. "Those mirrors you were working with interest me."

"I can't trade the mirrors." It was a flat statement, denying any chance of negotiation.

"Then I guess we don't have a deal. Now move on. You're blocking my light," was the cold response.

Still Heyes did not leave. After thinking it over, he played his last card. "I'll take you with me."

A scornful smile. "Take me where?"

"I know a way out of this place."

Zale dismissed his words. "I've been in here four years. I've never heard of a way out."

"The chute."

That caught the big man's attention, but he had an objection. "Anybody that tries to get in there gets hit with a round of rifle fire."

"I know how to avoid any shooting. With a little luck, we can make it to the surface."

Zale got up. Stepping towards them, he stared hard into Heyes' eyes.

"What are you staring at?"

"I'm trying to figure out if you're a liar or if the water has already made you crazy."

Heyes stared back without flinching. "Neither and I'll prove it to you."

"You stand your ground. I like that."

"Then we have a deal?"

"Just remember one thing." Zale brought his face closer to Heyes'. "If you're lying, I'll kill you."

*****

Lom rode along yet another trail. So far he'd followed three to dead ends. He hoped he'd have better luck with this one.

His eyes narrowed and he reined in his horse. Breathing deeply, he shaded his eyes with his hand and peered intently ahead. Yes, there it was. His nose had caught it before his eyes had. Smoke, most likely from a campfire.

He guided the horse off the trail to circle around. Best to have a good look before approaching.

Screened by some brush, he watched the two figures eating a meal by the fire. A teenage boy and another not much older, in his twenties perhaps. They hardly looked like hardened outlaws, but Trevors was well aware of how deceptive appearances could be. However, if this boy was the kidnap victim, he was certainly not behaving as if he was here against his will.

Lom rode into the open to confront them. "Howdy," he greeted easily.

The boys leaped to their feet like startled wild animals. The older one stepped protectively in front of the younger.

"Name's Sheriff Trevors," Lom introduced himself.

"We ain't done nothin'. What do ya want?" demanded the older boy belligerently.

Lom decided to come straight to the point. "Two friends o' mine were jailed in Eden's Acre for a stage holdup they didn't have anything to do with. I'm here to take the robbers in and free my friends."

"Let's get outta here," the younger boy hissed to the older.

"Quiet!" The older boy turned back to Lom. "That don't have nothin' ta do with us. We're just passin' through here."

"Then you won't mind if I have a look in your saddlebags, just to make sure the money from the robbery's not there."

"Not if you don't mind havin' yer throat cut," snarled the boy, pulling a knife.

"Now, son, that's not real smart. Not much use against a gun either." Lom drew his revolver. "Just throw the knife down on the ground there. Easy. That's right." Lom dismounted, retrieved the knife, and put it away in his own saddlebags, then collected the rifles he spotted attached to their saddles, all the while maintaining his aim on the boys. He eyed the teenager speculatively. "A youngster was kidnapped in that holdup."

"Vern didn't kidnap me, he rescued me!"

"Phil, I told you to be quiet. We don't gotta answer his questions."

"It sounds like your young friend wants to talk," observed Lom.

"He ain't my friend, he's my brother," Vern explained. "An' we ain't none o' your business."

"Maybe you're not, but my friends are," Lom corrected. "I aim to do whatever I can to set them free."

"You gotta listen," Phil insisted. "They were takin' me back to make me work for them again. They say orphans gotta earn their keep, but I ain't no orphan! I got Vern. They wouldn't let me go, they said I owed the town an' had ta work it off. So I ran away, but they came after me. Vern held up the stage to save me; he only took their money so's we'd have a stake. We were gonna pay it back. They ain't got no right ta hold us there an' make us slave for 'em for nuthin' when we want ta leave!"

Lom wasn't unsympathetic. Life was hard and the West was filled with unfortunate young 'uns trying to get by any way they could. The fact remained that they'd broken the law that he was sworn to uphold. He'd have to turn them in to pay for what they'd done. Maybe he could put in a word for them with the judge back in Eden's Acre, see what could be done for them. The story of their treatment did sound a bit severe. The more he dealt with that town, the less he liked it. He instructed them to break camp.

Vern appealed to him. "Let my brother go. He didn't have nuthin' ta do with the holdup and he's only 14."

"Prison don't scare me." Phil lifted his chin defiantly.

"Quiet, Phil. Please. You don't know what you're saying." He addressed Trevors. "Nobody ever gets out of prison in Eden's Acre. They'll just let him rot in there for the rest of his life."

Lom shook his head, but tried to speak kindly. "That isn't really up to me, son. My duty is to take you in. The court will decide what happens to you after that."

"We can show you where the prison is," Phil offered. "You can get some more men and break your friends outta there."

"I'm sorry," Lom told him. "I've got to do this according to the law."

"Coward," Phil accused him.

Lom looked into the scorn-filled eyes of the boy standing before him and thought about how there were too many youngsters growing up this way, on their own, going outside the law in order to survive. He was well acquainted with two men who had grown up just that way and were only now taking a chance to set their lives straight. He had some personal experience along those lines as well. He sighed. There were too many difficult choices here. The only solution he could see was to follow the law, and trust that justice would prevail.

"Let's go," he said to the boys.

*****

"I don't trust that guy, Heyes," Curry said as they settled into Zale's shelter.

"I can handle him," Heyes assured his partner. He wished he could assure himself as well.

"Just watch your back, okay?" the Kid advised.

"Try to get some rest," Heyes answered. He helped the Kid lie back, adjusting a folded blanket under his head to serve as a pillow. Sweat from the exertion drenched Curry's face, matting his blond curls to his forehead and dripping down his unshaven chin. At least Heyes hoped it was from the exertion, and not a sign of oncoming fever.

"Remember our deal?" the Kid asked him with a searching look from blue eyes clouded with pain.

"What deal?"

"If it comes down to it, you're gonna save yourself, right?"

Heyes just shook his head without speaking.

Curry grasped at his shirtfront. "Hey, if you see a chance, just go. Don't come back for me."

"I think the water must really be starting to make you crazy." Heyes passed off the statement with a laugh.

"I'm serious, Heyes."

Brown eyes bored into blue, but before he could answer, they were interrupted by Zale's return.

"I'm getting tired of waiting," he informed them.

"I gotta go," Heyes told the Kid and got up to leave.

"Joshua," Curry began, but fell back as a spasm of pain struck him.

Heyes left with Zale.

*****

Heyes rearranged the mirrors and was rewarded with yet another patter of bullets.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed as he jumped away from the chute.

"Don't fight it, use it," Zale calmly recommended.

"How do I do that?" Heyes asked, agitatedly clutching at locks of his hair. "I feel like there's a million fire ants in my brain!"

"Good. Make them work for you."

"How?"

"Fire ants sound vicious. Imagine them as your army marching to conquer your enemy. There's a struggle going on inside you, a battle to the death between you and the herb in the water. You have to use whatever force you can to defeat it."

"I'd rather use my energy to work on getting out of here." Heyes returned to adjusting the mirrors.

"When I first got here, I assumed the herb was just a form of torture, to make our imprisonment that much harder," Zale said. "Gradually I began to understand it more fully." He held up the stack of papers he'd been writing on. "It's all right here in my manifesto: my insights, my reasoning, my evidence. They're studying us like animals, pitting us against one another to see what happens. You can see that, can't you?" He paused for a response.

"I guess so." Heyes continued working.

Seeming satisfied, Zale resumed. "The greatest threat of course would be if we started to cooperate with each other, so they prevented that. But there had to be more to it than that. And the longer I was in here, the more I knew it was my job to figure it out. That's the reason I was put here. And eventually it came to me as though a fireball had exploded in my mind..."

Heyes cast him an uneasy glance, but continued to work.

"...And the realization gave me a power over the others. They don't come near me anymore. They're afraid of me because I know the truth." He appeared to grow impatient at not hearing the expected question. "Well? Don't you wanna know what it is? What is the ultimate purpose of the herb?"

Heyes paused. "Okay."

Zale got up and walked over to him. "It's inspired. Brilliant. It's a method for controlling the prison population. We kill each other off."

"Sure. Whatever you say," Heyes humored him, returning to work.

"So you must enter into the battle. If you let the herb control you, you'll end up like that crazy old man that took over your shelter, but if you learn to control it, you'll survive like me."

Heyes made a final adjustment and reached into the chute one more time. There was no response. No gunfire. "Yes!" he exclaimed in triumph. "I plan to be out of here before it even becomes an issue. Go ahead. Place your hand inside."

Zale held up a tentative hand and placed it carefully into the chute. Still no bullets.

Heyes had achieved the proper angles at last.

"Remember to stay low," he admonished Zale, then he climbed into the chute and began to crawl laboriously upward, his fellow prisoner close behind. The cracks between the stones provided finger and toe holds. Grunting with the effort, Heyes pulled himself along. He was so close now, he could almost taste freedom.

In a matter of minutes they were at the top.

The lock on the metal door was shaped like a dial. It was like a very large safe door. Hope flooded through him. This should present no problem for Hannibal Heyes to crack.

He pressed his ear to the door and listened for the tumblers as he slowly turned the dial. This way, then that, around and around.

No. It couldn't be. Not after all they'd gone through. Not after coming all this way. He twisted the dial more and more frantically. Finally he stopped and pulled away in despair.

He couldn't hear the tumblers. He couldn't hear a thing. It must be designed after the style of a P&H '78 or a Brooker 404, which meant there was no way for him to open it short of blowing it with dynamite or nitro. There didn't seem to be a ready supply of either commodity in the prison.

They were truly trapped.

*****

Heyes patted a damp cloth against the Kid's forehead.

The blond slowly opened his eyes and smiled at his partner. "Heyes?"

"How are you feeling?"

"I was dreaming. About that dance hall we went to last time we were in Frisco, the one where the dancers wore those frilly short skirts."

Heyes joined in his laughter. "Next time I'll try not to wake you." He continued wiping down Curry's face and neck.

"The chute," Curry remembered. "You made it in?"

Pausing, Heyes smiled and nodded.

"Did you find a way out?"

Heyes hesitated. "Not yet," he replied. "But we're very close. It's just a matter of time. So you've got to hang in there, okay?"

Curry nodded and closed his eyes.

Heyes could see he was suffering. Gently he opened the Kid's formerly white shirt and undid the bandages to check on the stab wound. He carefully removed the blood-soaked pad and replaced it with a clean one.

Curry opened his eyes and glanced down to see what Heyes was doing. He started. "Wha-? What happened to me?"

"Easy, Kid. You got stabbed, remember?"

"Who...who did it?" the blond asked in confusion.

Heyes began to fasten the new bandage in place. "One of the prisoners."

Curry became agitated. He grabbed Heyes by his shirt. "No! No, it was you!"

Heyes pried the clutching fingers loose. "I'm trying to change your bandage."

"No, get away from me! Get away from me!" The Kid slapped at Heyes, trying to push him away.

"Please, I'm trying to help you!" Heyes attempted to calm the other man down.

The Kid continued to flail at him. His hand fell on the mirrors lying next to him on the floor and he lifted them up as if to use as a weapon to strike Heyes.

"Kid!" Heyes said in alarm. "Kid, give me the mirrors."

The Kid looked from Heyes to the mirrors in his hand, then back again.

"We need them to get out of here, remember?" Heyes coaxed. "It's okay. Let me take them." He smiled warmly at the Kid, who now lay unmoving, returning Heyes' look of concern with one of bewilderment. Slowly Heyes reached out and took the mirrors from Curry's unresisting hand. He placed them carefully back down on the floor out of reach.

Curry lay back down and squeezed his eyes shut. "Heyes," he asked, choking back a sob, "what's happening to me?"

Heyes covered his own eyes with his hand, gathering his strength, then looked comfortingly at his cousin. "You're going to be okay." He turned his eyes away again so the Kid wouldn't see the doubts lurking in their depths.

"Heyes?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't leave me here," the Kid pleaded in a strangled whisper.

Heyes looked back at him, then reached for Curry's hand, clasping both of his tightly around it. After a moment he let go with one hand, but maintained his hold with the other. Lying down on the floor by Curry's side, he whispered, "Close your eyes."

As the Kid gradually drifted off to sleep in the security of his friend's watch, Heyes' luminous brown eyes remained wide open, while he listened to the raucous noises of the prisoners all around them.

*****

The blanket fell back into place behind him as Heyes walked out of the shelter. He'd only taken a few steps when Zale's mocking voice stopped him in his tracks. He noticed his fellow prisoner crouched against the wall nearby.

"Sleep well?"

"No," Heyes answered shortly.

"How about your friend? Is he dead yet?"

"Shut up!" Heyes shouted in his face, then slammed his palm against the wall. Swallowing his rage, he turned and stalked away. This would get them nowhere. He had to think, to plan. He couldn't stand still. Either the water or the prison was driving him to keep in constant motion. He began to pace while he formulated ideas aloud.

"The chute leads to a metal safe door. They open the door sometimes, to drop down food, drop down new prisoners. So maybe we can be waiting up there when they do. We could rush them."

"It's getting the best of you," Zale informed him matter-of-factly.

Heyes ignored him. He wouldn't let it best him. "I know we could do it."

"You think they're just gonna open the door and ask us if we'd like a ride home?"

"We'd have the element of surprise."

"And they'd have the rifles. Not just one or two of them, like it might have been if we could have opened the door before when they weren't expecting it and charged them. There must be a platoon of them up there ready for trouble whenever they open the door for deliveries."

Heyes didn't want to admit Zale was right, but he knew he was. He kept moving, pacing, rubbing his hands together as he tried to think.

"If we could hold them off, distract them just for a few minutes, maybe one man could slip through and get away, bring back help to get us out of here. We'll need weapons."

"I've never let anyone see this," Zale announced portentously, "but I'm going to let you read my manifesto. It'll teach you how to control the herb." He held out a sheaf of papers covered with his handwriting.

Heyes made no move to take them. "I don't want to read your crazy manifesto." Couldn't this man think of anything else? He couldn't stand to hear another word about those useless theories.

"Take it. Learn everything I know."

Heyes smacked the pages out of Zale's hand. They flew into the air, drifting about the room. "Now are you gonna help me or not?" he asked.

Zale knelt down and began gathering up his scattered papers. "If I were like the others, I'd kill you," he told Heyes. "But I don't lose control. That's the difference between me and you." Holding his cherished pages close, he walked away.

*****

Heyes knew he needed help. He couldn't do it alone. If Zale wouldn't help, maybe others would.

He went to the main chamber and called to the men to listen to him. "Everybody! This is important. I've got something to say. Something you'll want to hear. It's what you've been waiting for."

"What the hell do you want?"

Heyes saw Snake sitting off to the side of the chute. He glared at the man, but would not be intimidated. "I've found a way out of here," he announced.

The crowd jeered at him.

"There's no way out," said Snake.

"There is," Heyes contradicted. "Through the chute. I've been inside."

Some thrown object hurtled through the air and hit him in the chest. He rubbed at the sore spot, but ignored it and continued. "Listen. We have to work together. They'd like us all to kill each other, but we have to cooperate. If we do, we can get out of here."

"You can't get up the chute without being shot down," Snake dismissed him.

"I have a way. We can escape, if we work together."

Catcalls, hoots of derision greeted his words. Another object was thrown, a chunk of wood or stone. Hitting him in the head, it opened a bloody gash, and he dropped, defeated, to his knees.

The shouting continued. It became obvious to Heyes that no one here would help him.

*****

Wiping away the blood on his forehead as best he could with his hand, Heyes returned to the shelter. He froze on the threshold at the sight that met his eyes.

The Kid was awake and was dismantling the mirrors.

All the angles that had taken him hours of work to adjust to the necessary precision were completely ruined. Not only that, but one of the mirrors lay shattered in pieces on the floor. They'd never be able to put it back together again now, never.

He stepped inside. "What the hell are you doing?" he burst out furiously.

Curry looked up from his task. "Stay back," he warned.

Dropping to his knees, Heyes forlornly regarded their smashed hopes. "You've ruined it!" He reached out to rescue the parts the Kid still held in his hands.

Curry pulled back. "They're mine! Mine!" he declared fiercely. Gathering enough strength for one hard shove, he sent Heyes flying across the small space to slam back against the wall.

Something snapped. With a yell, Heyes flung himself on his cousin, grabbing him and beating him back against the wall in turn.

The Kid threw up his hands in front of his face for protection, but Heyes kept battering at him, hitting, shaking, yelling wordlessly all the while.

The Kid's cries of "No! No!" blended with Heyes' steady yell as he kept up the pounding, beyond feeling, beyond reason. His hand fell upon the length of pipe they'd picked up to use as a weapon after the Kid lost his knife in the fight with Snake. With a yell like a fierce battle cry, he grasped it, raising it over his head to strike down at the Kid.

He watched the Kid cower before him, waiting for the blow.

"Go ahead. Finish him," Zale's flinty voice urged from the doorway.

Slowly Heyes lowered the pipe. It dropped from his suddenly nerveless fingers with a clang. Appalled, his eyes locked on the Kid for an endless moment, before he turned and rushed from the shelter.

Zale followed. "You wanted to kill him, didn't you?"

Heyes stopped, his breath coming in ragged, heaving gasps. Turning, he twined his fingers in the thin fabric at Zale's shoulders and gave him a small shake. He could feel the tears threatening to fall as he struggled to hold them in check. "He's my best friend!" he got out through gritted teeth.

"No, no, that's where you're wrong. He's too far gone to be your friend. All he is now is a burden."

Heyes let the man go and turned away. "That's not true!" he cried.

"He eats your food, he's ruined your device, he's given in to the herb. You gotta get rid of him before he brings you down with him."

"Quiet!" He wouldn't listen to this.

"You got a chance to make something of your life in here, but as long as that carcass is in my hut, we'll never be able to go on to more important things."

He faced Zale again. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"We have to spread the word about the manifesto, gather our followers, train them." The man's eyes shone with an eager light.

"You're insane." Heyes started to walk away, but Zale grabbed his shoulder and swung him back around.

"You want my protection? You wanna live under my roof?" At last came the ultimatum. "Get rid of him."

Heyes flung Zale's hand from his shoulder. "I don't need your protection."

"How long do you think you'll last against Snake and the others without me looking out for you?" Zale temptingly held out one of the homemade knives the prisoners carried. "Go ahead, take it. Think of what a relief it will be to not have that responsibility, to be free of his ranting."

Heyes looked at the knife. Slowly his fingers came up to grasp it. Closing his eyes, he savored the feel of it for a moment.

The Kid wouldn't want to be a burden or a danger, but Heyes couldn't abandon him. He hadn't listened to Curry's earlier request that he save himself if it came down to a choice. Was he facing that choice now?

The Kid was only getting worse and all he could do was watch him suffer. How long could they go on like this? Despite that heart-rending plea not to leave him here, could it be that the time had come to put his friend out of his misery, for his own good, like a horse with a broken leg? He shook his head. Never. He'd promised to protect the Kid, and he'd keep that promise as long as the tiniest chance remained for him to do so.

"I'm not a killer," he whispered.

"You wanna survive? In here? You'd better learn to be."

"If that's what it takes to stay alive," Heyes shook his head again, "then I'd rather die." Heyes opened his fingers and allowed the rejected knife to drop to the floor with a clatter.

"Get out now, and take him with you, or I will kill him."

*****

Lom couldn't say exactly what made him leave the brothers safely tied up outside town instead of taking them right on in to Eden's Acre to turn them in. He just had a bad feeling about that Sheriff Lear. What the brothers had told him later about their treatment by the town's officials hadn't made him feel any easier. So he'd decided he'd just make sure the deal was all set for the release of Heyes and Curry before he handed over his bargaining chips.

It was turning out to look like his feeling was right.

"Smith and Jones were tried and convicted of robbery and kidnapping. If you've found more outlaws who took part in the robbery, we'll be happy to arrest them as well, but that don't mean we can let your friends go." Sheriff Lear refused to give in to any of Lom's arguments.

"Are you saying those convictions can't be overturned, no matter what new evidence I bring in?" Trevors had never encountered such a policy in any of his dealings with the law.

"That's right," was Lear's complacent response. "That's how we keep law and order in this town."

"Those might be your words for it," Trevors commented. "Don't think that's what I'd call it." He turned and walked out of the sheriff's office.

So much for justice, at least of the Eden's Acre variety. It was time for a new tactic.

*****

"You said you could show me where the Eden's Acre prison is," Lom reminded the boys as he untied them.

"What's wrong?" Vern asked perceptively. "The law didn't do like you wanted?"

"No, they didn't," Trevors admitted. "But you will."

"What makes you so sure o' that?"

"Because if you don't," Lom said firmly, "I'll turn you in, and you and your brother will spend the rest of your lives in that prison."

Vern nodded thoughtfully as he cast a glance at Phil. "I'll take you to the prison," he agreed, "if you let Phil go now."

"Vern, no! I ain't leavin' you."

"Hush up! I'm handlin' this."

"Neither one of you is handling this," Lom corrected. "I am. You both will show me where this prison is, and after I get my friends out, then I'll let you both go."

"That ain't good enough," Vern objected.

"Fine. Mount up. We're ridin' into town to see the sheriff." Trevors gestured toward the horses.

Vern undoubtedly realized Trevors meant what he said. "All right," he assented reluctantly.

"You can't bust into that prison alone," warned Phil.

"You just show me where it is first and let me scout it out. Then I'll see about rounding up a posse."

They mounted their horses and rode off in the direction of the prison.

*****

Heyes returned to the shelter to find the Kid asleep. Either that or passed out, he wasn't entirely sure which. He hated the idea of moving him in that condition, but Zale had left him no choice.

As far as he could tell, his partner didn't show any visible signs of further harm as a result of their earlier confrontation. Heyes pushed down the waves of guilt threatening to swamp him. He'd deal with that later. He didn't have time for it now. The Kid didn't have time for it.

Looking around for something to take with them for defense, his eyes fell on the pipe he'd come so close to using on the Kid. After a moment's hesitation, he overcame his revulsion and picked it up.

He gathered what he could salvage of the mirror arrangement. Then he half carried, half dragged the Kid out of Zale's place and found them an open spot near a wall within sight of the main chamber.

Word must have gotten around that they were no longer under Zale's protection. A mob soon gathered. Heyes gripped the Kid's arm briefly, drawing strength from the contact as much as giving it, then stood up to face them.

They were like vultures circling a dying man.

"I want his clothes," shouted one.

"I want his boots." With an arrogant grin, Snake waved his knife at Heyes, inviting him to fight.

Heyes held up the pipe. "This man is my friend. Nobody touches him!"

"Back off," Snake warned him. "You don't have to get hurt."

Heyes stood his ground.

Snake closed in. He was about to strike.

Suddenly noises were heard from the main chamber. A cry of "The chute!" went up.

"New prisoner!" Snake guessed and ran off to investigate this new prize.

The others followed, leaving Heyes alone with Curry. He knelt protectively by his friend's side. Whatever happened, he'd stay to guard him.

He watched the prisoners crowd around the chute, eager to see what new prey would descend to them. He heard the sliding sound of someone or something coming down the chute. He saw a man emerge and jump to his feet, pointing a rifle at the prisoners. He was followed by a second man, then a third and a fourth, also holding guns.

Heyes blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. If so, then his ears were in on it, too, for he distinctly heard Lom Trevors' deep voice say, "Hands on your heads."

"Do it. Now," one of his companions commanded.

In the face of the guns, the prisoners backed off.

Heyes stood up and took a step forward.

"Lom!" he called, a note of disbelief still coloring his voice.

"Smith?" Seeing him, Lom pushed his way through the ring of prisoners and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He felt real enough.

"Where's Jones?"

"He needs help."

Heyes stepped aside so Lom could see the Kid still lying unconscious on the floor. Despite his frail appearance, Heyes knew he'd be all right now. They both would be. They'd hung on and the ordeal was over. Help had come at last.

"We made it, Kid," he whispered. "We're getting out. Together."

*****

"I've contacted a federal marshal. He'll take charge of the arrangements here. All the prisoners will have to have their cases retried, to see who should be transferred to other prisons and who should be set free."

Trevors had stopped by the doctor's office where Curry had spent the last few days in bed recovering. He'd have to spend the majority of his time resting in bed for quite a while yet, but the doctor had pronounced him well enough to handle a couple of easy strolls a day, with assistance. With Heyes' help, he was just getting dressed for the first of them.

"What about Sheriff Lear?" Curry asked Lom.

"He's been placed under arrest, along with the judge, the prison warden, and the mayor. There are going to be big changes in Eden's Acre. I'm just glad the people here are finally going to have a second chance for a normal life. Especially those youngsters."

"I still can't believe they got away with it as long as they did," Curry marvelled. "It's been going on for years."

"Living in fear's no kinda life at all," Lom mused. "You both seem a good deal easier than the last time I saw you. Are you completely over the effects of that herb they were putting in the water?"

"I'm fine," Heyes answered. He knew he must be. The agitation and the impulse to keep moving were gone. Now he simply felt drained and listless. There was one thing that was not fine at all, and he wasn't sure if it would ever be all right again.

"It's amazing what a few days of drinking fresh water will do," added the Kid. "I feel like a new man."

"The doctor told me that herb was put in animal feed whenever they had cockfights or dogfights hereabouts. Made the critters want to fight more," Lom said.

"Zale was right," Heyes murmured.

The Kid nodded. Leaning heavily on his friend, he took a step towards the door. "Come on, Heyes. We're overdue for that steak dinner."

"I guess so." He couldn't seem to conjure up much enthusiasm.

"Whaddya mean, you guess so? It was the thought of that dinner that kept us going. Care to join us, Lom?"

"Naw, I gotta get back to the sheriff's office. Still a lotta work to do, clearing things up. I'll see you boys later." He parted from them at the door and headed off down the street.

Heyes and Curry began walking very slowly in the opposite direction towards the hotel restaurant.

"So, what do you think?" the Kid asked. "A baked potato, a big mound of fried onions..."

"Kid."

"Maybe some stewed oysters..."

"Kid, listen to me!" Heyes stopped and faced the blond.

Curry looked puzzled.

Heyes wasn't sure how to say it, but now that the Kid was back on his feet, he knew it had to be said. "I...I almost killed you."

"What are you saying? You're the one that kept me alive," Curry countered.

"I was ready to hit you with the pipe. Don't you remember?" Heyes knew he'd never forget that moment, not as long as he lived.

The Kid looked straight into Heyes' eyes without flinching. "You wanna know what I remember? Someone saying, 'This man is my friend. Nobody touches him.' I'll remember that for a long time."

Heyes returned the gaze intently. What he saw in the azure eyes made him feel that somehow it was going to be all right after all. Suddenly he really did feel fine.

"So," the Kid said with a smile and a clap on his shoulder, "whaddya say we blow the money Lom lent us on those steak dinners?"

Heyes brought his own hand up to tightly grip the hand resting on his shoulder for a moment before releasing it. He grinned. "So what's for dessert?"

"Cherry pie, don't you remember?"

The Kid leaned on him as they started to walk again, but this time the weight felt immeasurably lighter. "Hey, that was your pick! What happened to my peach cobbler?" Heyes asked. "Did I miss a coin toss?"

"Why bother? Let's have both," the Kid laughed.

Two laughs blended jubilantly as Heyes joined his friend.

THE END


End file.
